Special Sundays
by LadyLilyMalfoy
Summary: Sundays have always been special to Draco.


Sundays have always been special to Draco because, ever since he could remember, it had been the tradition for Draco's father, at four o'clock in the after noon, to go into the sitting room and take a nap and he always allowed Draco to sit with him, just for that hour, and rest also.

This rare time of peace and tranquillity was precious to all in the Malfoy home, but even more so for little Draco. It was the sole time of the week he could afford to let his defences down and not worry about doing something wrong to incur his father's temper. This was the only time of the week where it wasn't his fault.

Every Sunday, Draco would sit on the floor of the living room, staring fixedly up at the clock placed directly in the centre of the mantelpiece, waiting and waiting.

Longing with all his heart for that moment when the hour hand strikes four and praying that this wouldn't be the day that his father doesn't ome for his rest and forgets about him.

But then his father would walk in and all of Draco's initial fears would be immediately dispelled, replaced with a sharp, almost painful, pang of relief. Draco's father sits down in his chair, removes his shoes and changes them for slippers and then, and only then, would Draco be permitted to run over and scramble up onto his father's lap, resting his head against his chest.

Every time his father walked through that door, Draco would thank Merlin because when it was four o'clock on Sunday and his fater came, Draco knew that he was special and that everything bad that had happened that week no longer mattered because it meant he hadn't been forgotten and his father loved him.

And as Draco lay there, a string arm wrapped around him, making him feel safe and secure, a feeling that didn't come often for Draco, he would soon feel his father drift of to sleep.

Draco knew he was expected to sleep also, but he never could. The thrill and pride that he felt was always too strong and besides, if he slept, that hour would flash by in a second and it would all be over, then everything would go back to how it was before and Draco would have to wait a whole week before that special time on Sunday came around again.

When Draco was certain that his father was sleeping, he would sneak a small hand up and run a tiny section of that perfect hair, so soft and fine despite thirty or so years, through his fingers. But he was always careful not to pull or make knots because then his father would know and Draco wouldn't be allowed to sit with him again, even at four o'clock on Sundays.

Then, Draco would feel his father's breathing become deeper and he would quickly settle down again and pretend to be asleep, knowing that soon it would all be over for another week.

And sure enough, soon his father would wake and he'd gently shake Draco back into 'consciousness' murmuring to him,

"Wake up little Dragon. It's time to rise." And Draco would slowly sit up, making it last for as long as he dared because as soon as he climbed off of his father's lap, it would be over for sure and he wouldn't be special anymore.

When his father had left the room, Draco would sit in that chair for just five minutes more, treasuring the memory of that hour and saving it for when he was sure to need it later that week.

Then Draco would run up to his room and bury his face deep into his pillow, soaking it with the tears of a little boy who was only special and loved by his father for just one hour a week and wanted it to last forever. And that of depair, knowing that it will never happen.

Yes. Sundays have always been special to Draco.

Sundays have always been special, but this Sunday was going to be different.

As usual, Draco sat in the middle of the living room floor, grey eyes staring, unblinking, up at the clock. Waiting and waiting and waiting.

The hour hand was just a millimetre off the four, the minute hand ticking slowly around the numbers as if in slow motion, taunting him as he waited with waning patience.

1…2…3…4…5…

Draco fidgeted nervously with the hem of his shirt, his anxiety growing with every second.

6…7…8…9…

Just fifteen seconds to go, _'Please,' _Draco begged silently, _'Please don't let him forget!'_

10…11…12…

Draco closed his eyes hoping and praying that he would hear the door open. A few more torturous seconds passed and still… nothing, except the ominous silence that hung in the air, laughing at him, telling him that he had been forgotten.

Draco drew his knees tight up to his chest, doing his best to block out that voice by covering his ears with small hands.

Maybe…maybe he was just late, that's all…give it a few more minutes and then Father would come in and apologise, telling him that he hadn't forgotten Draco and that he loved him…yes, that's what will happen. Just be patient.

But five minutes passed by, then ten and soon the hour hand was pointing halfway towards the five, yet still Draco sat there not daring to move in case he leave and his father would come in for his nap and he wouldn't be there. He had to stay still, had to keep believing or else he'd miss it for sure and then he would have nothing to hold onto to get him through the week.

But five o'clock passed quickly by and still no sign of his father and when six o'clock came, Draco scrambled unsteadily to his feet, wobbling slightly on his dead legs and made his way slowly to his room. Shutting the door quietly behind him, he slid down and hid his face in his hands.

Before, Draco had cried because he was only special for one hour, but now, even that sixty minutes of affection had been snatched from him, leaving his life empty and dark. And as the boys tears, silent and strong, caressed down his face, Draco felt an immense sense of misery, but at the same time he knew that soon it wouldn't matter because he had always know, deep down, that the special hour wouldn't last forever, the fear he always felt those few minutes before four was proof enough of that The foreboding was just telling him the inevitable- Nothing good can never last forever.


End file.
